


High Tensions

by Elder_Schraderham



Series: Pritchkin [1]
Category: House on Haunted Hill (1999), Thir13en Ghosts (2001)
Genre: Gen, Horror, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 14:26:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11060877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elder_Schraderham/pseuds/Elder_Schraderham
Summary: Five party goers, two hosts, a potential buyer, a psychic, an alcoholic, and a haunted house. Fear run rampant when a party goer goes missing and the others set out to find her, all except for two pessimists.





	High Tensions

Pritchett took a long sip of vodka, straight from the bottle. Once done, he set it down rather loudly on the bar top. The bang of the bottle against the wood caused the other house guests to look over at him, expecting some sort of long and drawn out explanation about the house or whatever was going on. There were plenty of questions the other party goers had.

They all stared at him for a while, before he finally spoke. “What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’?” Sara snapped. “Where’s Melissa? What’s going on?”

“The asylum has a lockdown mode,” Pritchett sighed. “The house decided to trigger it. We’re all stuck in here.”

“Stuck?” Eddie asked. “Till when?”

“I don’t know, tomorrow morning?”

Sara, eyes burning with fury, stormed over to Price. Narrowing her eyes at him, she yelled, “this was apart of your plan all along! Wasn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Leave him alone,” Arthur stepped in, trying to be calm but assertive. It wasn’t working too well.

“And what gives you the right? Because you’re buying this place?” Sara then turned her anger towards Arthur. “He’s the one that decided to have this god damn party in a god damn haunted house.”

“My wife wanted it here,” Price corrected. “I just made it happen.”

“It doesn’t matter! None of this matters!”

“The ghosts think this matters.”

Everyone turned to the chair where Dennis had been sitting. He had been quiet throughout most of the arguing, fiddling with his medication bottle. No one really knew why he had been there, he just showed up with a phony power guy routine in an attempt to break inside and burn the place down. Pritchett liked him. He knew that this place was awful and the bane of his existence, and yet no one else thought so. Everyone else thought of him as a nuisance.

With all eyes on him, he stood up and walked over to the bar where Pritchett sat. He then pocketed his med bottle before taking the vodka bottle that Pritchett had taken a drink out of and took a swig himself. Taking a few sips, he then set it down on the bar softer than Pritchett. “The ghosts in this place are pissed. People died here in a terrible riot and fire. They want out and can’t get out, or get put to rest, or crossover. Instead of trying to crossover to the other side, they decided to team up and become this evil entity that will kill anyone in here.”

“And how the hell do you know this?” Arthur questioned.

“Yes, Mr. Rafkin, indulge us,” Price arched an eyebrow at him, now extremely curious.

“Listen, I want this place burned to the ground. There is a heavy amount of psychic energy emanating off of his place. The ghosts are so powerful that they annoy me when I drive by this fucking place. My little fucked up psychic head can’t handle this anymore.”

“How do they annoy you, Mr. Rafkin?”

“As a psychic, ghosts have a tendency to get in my head and mess with my brain. Causes seizures and mirages, lots of other unpleasant psychical side effects. I’m tired of it. This place needs to burn to the ground. No more ghosts, they can finally leave this hellhole and me alone.”

Pritchett took the bottle of vodka and held it in the air for a moment. “I’ll second that.”

“You’re nuts,” Sara shook her head. “You both are!”

“Believe what you want, little lady,” Dennis then held out for the vodka bottle when Pritchett was done with it. As soon as the bottle was in his hand, he took a long swig. “This place is haunted and the spirits want to kill us.”

“We’re not getting out of here alive,” Pritchett added.

“You’re both pessimistic,” Blackburn shook his head. “Do what you want, I’m going to find a way out of here.”

“I second that,” Sara nodded.

“Me too,” Eddie chimed in, looking to Sara. “We need to find Melissa.”

“This place is all sealed up,” Dennis rolled his eyes. “Don’t you know anything about this place?”

“And you do?” Arthur sassed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“More than you people it seems.”

“This is the same thing that killed those people in the thirties. Lockdown mode means none of the entrances or exits can be accessed without flipping off the lockdown mode.”

“And how do you know this?” Sara asked. “Were you the one that turned it on?”

Dennis gave her a look. He rolled his eyes and sassily began to answer her. “Yes. I did it. I wanted to be trapped inside of a haunted house, that I wanted to burn down, with a bunch of strangers I’m just meeting today. Yes, princess. This is top on my list of shit I wanted to do today.”

“Call me princess again, see what happens,” Sara threatened, narrowing her eyes at the psychic.

“I agree with Rafkin on this one,” Pritchett spoke up. “None of us in this room could’ve done it. It can only be accessed through the asylum section of the house. So, either Mrs. Price or Melissa could’ve done it, and that’s only if they knew where the access room was or knew how to turn the power on in that section.”

“Let’s go find out then,” Blackburn was getting impatient with the two at the bar.

“I agree with him,” Arthur gestured to Blackburn. “We need to get the power on in that area and then turn this thing off.”

Pritchett rolled his eyes and grabbed the bottle of vodka again. “It’s your funeral.”

Eddie and Sara already began to walk towards the basement with Blackburn close behind. Price and Arthur looked at the two at the bar.

“Well?” Arthur asked.

“Well what?” Dennis asked.

“Are you coming?”

“I’m staying right here,” Dennis sat on one of the barstools beside Pritchett. “Pritch said it the first time, it’s your funeral.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and headed towards the basement. Price stood and watched the two pass back and forth the vodka bottle a few times before he decided to say ‘fuck it’ and head down into the basement. He needed to find out what was actually happening from a secondary source.

Once the two odd ones out were alone, they sat in silence for a while. Dennis had stood up and went behind the bar to find something else for himself to get lost. He settled for a bottle of scotch and took a long swig of that. After he was done, he walked back around to the stools and sat back down.

“Are you really a psychic?” Pritchett finally asked.

“Yup.”

“And you know this place is fucked up?”

“Yup.”

“And you were going to burn it down to the ground?”

“Yup.”

He nodded approvingly and took another sip of the vodka. “Thank god someone was.”


End file.
